Page 20 of Diva Pop

Chapter Six

Jett stared out of the passenger side window of Silas’ Bimmer, not daring to speak in case he said something stupid. He was too hungover, cranky, tired and confused about what the fuck was going on with the band and with his own fucking feelings, he was in imminent danger of a gross stupidity moment.

“Do you need to stop anywhere before we get to your place?” Silas glanced at him sideways. “And finish your water. I know you’re dehydrated, so don’t try to pretend you’re not.”

It was so annoying not having Bob the idiot to pull one over on anymore. On the other hand, it was so glorious not to have Bob the asshole to deal with, so he supposed it all evened out.

“Yeah, actually. There’s a liquor store… Wait!” Jett didn’t realize a man could growl so loudly. “I don’t mean to get booze. I’m out of smokes.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?” Jett blinked several times. “I think I’d know if I was out of cigarettes.”

“I mean, no, we’re most certainly not going to stop and get you cigarettes any more than we would liquor. You’re a dancer, for chrissakes. You need your instrument to be in top shape.”

If only he had the energy for a fit. “Look, I’m a grown ass man. If I want smokes, booze, cock or candy bars, I’ll fucking have them. I’m tired of everyone telling me what to do like I’m a baby. I’ve been done with that shit ever since I escaped the clutches of my mother, the grand poohbah of dance moms everywhere.”

“What was I just saying to you back at the studio, Jett? I’m on your side. Not wanting you to drink too much or to smoke has nothing to do with lording over you. All I care about is your wellbeing. You’re a gifted dancer, your body is your temple. But you’re getting older now, so it won’t be as forgiving as it once was.”

“Gee, thanks. I feel so much better.”

This guy. His life would be much simpler if Silas wasn’t so hot with an extra side of hot. The deep, smooth tone of his voice was shiver-inducing and the way he moved with such grace drove Jett insane. Graceful, strong bodies had always been his crack. If only Silas wasn’t the enemy, he’d be climbing the man like a tree.

“We need to work on your attitude, Jett.” Silas glanced at him again. “I’m not kidding about that. You’re almost thirty, much too old to be behaving like you’re twelve.”

“The fuck…?”

Jett slammed his back against the seat and crossed his arms dramatically. Jett frowned at himself. Okay, so that move had held a tinge of twelve, but damn. Harsh much?

His conversation with Tasha from the club the night before drifted into his mind. He’d been reminded of it when Silas made his little joke back at the studio. That the man could joke at all was shocking enough, but Jett was more interested in what he’d said.

He angled his body in the bucket seat so he could get a better read on Silas’ expression. “So, I guess that means you think I need a spanking?”

Sure enough, Silas’ normal expression of iron wasn’t as solid as usual. Now Jett had to know the truth.

“I apologize for that remark, Jett. It was inappropriate.”

Jett didn’t roll his eyes, but he would’ve if he’d thought he could get away with it. However, Silas was like a bot that knew what he was doing all the time. Even if he thought his secrets were safe, they really weren’t when he was around the dude.

“Come on. Tell me the truth, Silas. That’s what we’re supposed to be doing here, right? That’s the strategy, the way for us to move forward as a team? Then I should know about the real you.”

Silas’ iron expression was back. Actually, Jett wondered if he’d gone too far. Jett wasn’t above hurling himself from a moving vehicle if Silas turned green while his shirt burst open from his bulging muscles.

“Cut the crap, Jett. Clearly, you’ve been speaking to someone about me.” Silas gripped the wheel tighter. “When we get to your place, we’re going inside to have a long talk, get everything out in the open. No more games, got it?”

Whoa. Yeah, he’d touched a nerve all right. “Got it.”

The rest of the ride continued in silence, and it wasn't until they pulled into Jett’s driveway that he realized they hadn’t stopped for his smokes. Not that he’d actually expected Silas to do his bidding, but Jett had completely forgotten to keep bitching about it.

As he was exiting the car, he also discovered he’d finished the water like Silas had told him to. His first instinct was to get pissy about it, to be angry at himself for letting Silas push him around, but then he realized how ridiculous that was. Silas hadn’t told him to drink the water to punish him. He’d done it because of how irresponsible Jett had been by drinking himself into oblivion.

Not quite sure how to feel about that, he shoved the empty bottle into his bag then dug around for his keys. Once he retrieved them, he made his way up the walkway with Silas trailing behind.

If he hadn't been such an idiot last night, he could’ve gone to rehearsal all dolled up instead of wearing his pink velour tracksuit. Sure, it was cute as fuck, but not quite as alluring as leggings or a vinyl mini. He didn’t even have his damn heels on. Rocking the proper hip swing without them was impossible.

By the time they made it inside, Jett wasn’t sure he should’ve agreed to accepting a ride from Silas, and he especially shouldn’t have agreed to whatever chat they were about to have.

Jett tossed his clump of kitschy key rings onto the console table in the foyer he didn’t remember buying. Then again, he didn’t remember half the shit he bought. And if the wind kept blowing in the direction it was, his retail therapy partner was about to be snatched away by a certain cutie-pie dancer.

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